A requiem for Frank

Every time I encounter someone important to me, I want a souvenir of them. These transitional objects are never valuable or large. Rather, they are often quirky bibelots – trifles really. But they are treasured. They help me keep alive my memory and love for the person they represent.

This evening I learned a friend of mine has died. Last week a mutual friend sent me a note to inform me Frank was in hospice care; he had not long to live. I tried calling him over the weekend, but I failed to connect. Tonight on Facebook, a brother in his order posted Frank’s passing.

Frank was a Franciscan brother. I knew him when we worked in a state hospital in the late 80s. We did not stay in touch other than through Facebook.

Yet I felt a spiritual connection to him, for he made me the rosary in the photograph. He made it with Job’s tears. I carry it in my briefcase. I Hi Michael! Good to hear from you. Write to Fred at towerofbabble@comcast.net I’ll let him know to check his email. Hope all is well! m.goes with me wherever I travel. I admit I don’t pray it often. However when I do, I always think of Frank. The eighth bead in the first decade is slightly larger and more irregular than its fellows. When I finger it, it immediately makes me think of Frank and I fold him into my prayers.

I will miss Bro. Frank. I am grateful to have known him. And I am very thankful for this rosary. So long as I have and use it, he will be remembered. It makes a lovely souvenir, indeed.

Spo-Reflections 2006-2016

15 comments

When tomorrow starts without me,
And I’m not there to see;
If the sun should rise
and find your eyes
All filled with tears for me;
I know how much you love me,
As much as I love you,
And each time that you think of me,
I know you’ll miss me too
So when tomorrow starts without me,
Don’t think we’re far apart,
For every time you think of me,
I’m right here, in your heart.
~David Romano

Right after my Mother passed, a neighbor of ours at the farm asked for some small item that Mother had owned. I asked what would be appropriate and she said anything — how about that little cup and saucer?

Sometime later I was visiting in her house and noticed the cup and saucer in the kitchen window, which I noted to her. She said, “Everyday when I see that cup and saucer, I think of your wonderful mother.”

Condolences and comforts to you, Dr Spo, for someone who meant something extra-special to you. Never an easy time, I know.

Btw: Hope it’s not too insensitive to mention it now but I googled the unfamiliar to me ‘Jacob’s Tears’ and could only get ‘Job’s Tears’ which, I take it, is what you meant – though that was also new to me.

Whatever, I trust the rosary will bring you a degree of solace, with the certainty that it was your friend’s very own creation.

When I was but a small child in Catholic grammar school, before the Church had begun to alienate me, I made rosaries from Job’s Tears. The nuns provided the address of a company that made the chain, various designs of cross and the medals that form the junction. I enjoyed doing it, the very first artisan experience that would eventually become a career in making props and ornamentation for the stage. I still have the little variation needle-nose pliers used to make the links from bead to bead. Thank you for bringing a very pleasant memory back to me, and a blessing on your friend who is surely now where he believed he would be forever.

We were talking only the other day about departed friends who are ‘still with us’. Specifically, long-gone friend Bruce H. — Bruce of the ‘I Ching’, Bruce of the Zodiac, Bruce of the Tarot — who one day showed me an exercise ‘to improve my aura’. Whenever I demonstrate Bruce’s aura improvement exercise (not that often, must be seen, cannot be adequately described) I know he is smiling. (You would smile, too.) I do miss him.

I’m so sorry for your loss. I know what’s it’s like to lose old friends, especially unexpectedly. The rosary is beautiful, and I know it holds tremendous power for you. I hope the memories it brings are happy ones.